Pub Quiz with Drunk Europeans: Not all it’s cracked up to be

“You’ve never been to Edinburgh Castle Pub Quiz?” I asked. I was surprised. Edinburgh Castle Pub seemed like Leslie’s kinda place. We’d been knocking around the idea of meeting for a quiz after work, and decided to head to this vintage Tenderloin establishment for their 8:30 Tuesday Pub Quiz. I went through a pub quiz phase in my late 20′s, and having just many of San Francisco’s offerings, always held a soft spot for Edinburgh Castle.

Last night, we found ourselves sitting at the bar next to two drunk Dutchmen, who proudly announced they were staying in the hostel down the street. And one of them was clearly fixed on Leslie.

Before the quiz even began, she leaned over and whispered, “This guy is STARING.”

“Yes, I noticed.” I smiled, trying to casually see if he was still gazing. “He’s cute.”

“And staying in a hostel.”

We both agreed that the hostel scene would never be our scene, but I think in some countries, hosteling is perfectly acceptable. At least that’s what I’ve seen. In movies. From the 70′s.

The quiz began relatively promptly and with answer sheets in hand, we were forced to think of a clever team name. It’s much easier to think of a team name with a big team. Leslie and I looked at each other.

Can you name this guy? Me neither.

“Oh God, I don’t know.”

“I’ve got nothing.”

We agreed on an exclamation recently heard on Mad Men, a quote that’s become part of our vernacular. As a result, our team was called, “Christ on a Cracker.”

The Dutchmen, not Mad Men watchers, were instantly offended. They were also incredibly drunk. But I’ll come back to them.

Round one of the quiz was general trivia. Everyone’s got their strong suits. Leslie brings biology, rain forests, US Presidents, crime, chemistry, French language, North Korea and world religion to the table. I have a penchant for the 1990′s, all television, medical oddities, long-term kidnappings, local history, current teen interest, celebrities and serial killers. Christ on a Cracker was sorely lacking in sports, music and basic interest: three things with which we want nothing to do.

None the less, we held out own in Round 1. Round 2 was described as ‘Current Events.”

Leslie looked at me, “This is all you.”

I can understand why she’d think that. I work in a television newsroom. But I’m fluff! I’m puff pieces! I have no idea what the hell is going on in the world. I spent much of my day writing “Bay Area’s Spookiest Spots.” So to my great embarrassment, I had no idea exactly how many days the Chilean miners have been trapped, I couldn’t tell you the name of the Iraqi Prime Minister and when the host finally revealed what a Gadsden flag is, I thought, “Oh, you mean the flag in Sam Seaborn’s office?”

Christ on a Cracker fell in the ranks.

Rounds 3, 4 and 5 all happened at once. We were given a list of fictional TV character addresses, and had to name the characters that lived there, we had to identify 10 celebrity head-shots and finally, we had to list the artists of 10 songs, which were played in full.

This is when Christ on a Cracker started to lose steam. This is also when the drunk Dutchmen started to get obnoxious.

“What is this, Christ and the cracker? What this mean?”

There are only so many times one can explain the concept of Mad Men, much less the use of one line from one episode, before one loses one’s patience. The starer, fixated on Leslie, has somehow arranged it so his obnoxious wingman had come over to me. While Leslie politely handled the starer, his Dutch sidekick was slurring in my ear, going on and on about how “Americans have the advantage in this game.”

Les and I enjoyed breaks from the Dutch every time a woman approached the bar to order a drink, because their attention would instantly be diverted to the fresh meat. This whole fiasco would have been entertaining to watch, had we not been their convenient back-up plan.

The smirking, Scottish bartender, who it turns out is one of SFGate’s own City Brights, would occasionally sneak us an answer or two. And he certainly had his finger on the pulse of the current leadership of Iraq. Leslie and I were both impressed and slightly smitted.

By the time Round 6 started, we’d been there for 2 hours. Leslie and I were waning and with a score of 30, Christ on a Cracker was in the middle of the pack. With only two of us, the big teams with loads of players would obviously maintain their lead. Plus, the Dutch were getting serious about closing the deal. There were coming in last and loving every second of it.

We were moments away from, “We go somewhere after here, yes?”

“I’m ready to throw in the towel,” Leslie sighed. “Some of us have jobs.”

We agreed that bigger teams are more fun, and drunk Dutchmen are not as enjoyable as one might think. Heading out onto the mean streets of the Tenderloin, I asked Leslie how she’d feel about another trivia night, one with the potential for much more blog fodder.

“Maybe. What do you have in mind?”

“Well, it’s at a club in the Marina. Tuesday nights at 9 o’clock.”

“That’s it? It’s in the Marina?”

“Yeah.” I mumbled. “And it’s called Sex Trivia.”

Leslie marched ahead to the car. “Not in a million years.”

Beth Spotswood has posted weekly on the Culture Blog for over 3 years and still struggles when folks ask her to define “a blog.” None the less, she posts all day long over at her desk in the CBS5 newsroom, editing and writing Eye on Blogs. You can follow her on Twitter or run into her in the real world, where she also exists.